


Writer's Block

by Pretending2BeMe



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Angst, First Time, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 16:56:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7471749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pretending2BeMe/pseuds/Pretending2BeMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Writer's Block and Jeremy's inability to deal with things finally brings him and James together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Writer's Block

**Author's Note:**

> I've been going through a bit of a slump lately that reminded of this. I wrote it forever ago so, apologies. Despite wanting to edit the life out of it, I've left it largely unchanged.

“Fuck it!”

Jeremy threw his pen across the room and stormed out, angrily barging past James who was on his way in.  Dropping his bag in the corner of the portakabin, James raised his eyebrow at Richard to ask what the hell was going on.

“He can’t write,” explained Richard flatly.

“Still? The Editors must be screaming.” Hanging up his coat, James wandered over to the kettle and flicked it on. “Maybe we should do something.”

“Like what?” asked Richard as he downed the last of his coffee. He won’t let anyone near him; you’ve tried, I’ve tried, even Andy’s tried talking to him but what do we get? A mouthful of abuse followed by the silent treatment.”

James did a double take, “He had a go at Andy? When?”

“Last night, just after you left. Andy tried talking to him and the next thing, Jez was shouting the odds. It looked like he was gonna thump him.”

James listened in amazement as he made his coffee, “I know they have their moments but they’ve known each other since the dawn of time; Jeremy would never lay a finger on him. What the fuck is going on?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, mate,” said Richard with a shrug. “I’m going for a fag; you coming?”

 *

Jeremy had taken himself off to the far side of the field, around the back of the main hangar where no one could get at him. Sitting in the long grass with his back against the cool metal wall, he lit a cigarette and tried to think; to calm down. The only trouble was he didn’t _want_ to think. It was thinking that had caused all the trouble in the first place; what had always been his own well-kept and well-nurtured secret had suddenly jumped out, grabbed him by the balls and slapped him hard. Now, everywhere he went, everywhere he looked, at all times of the day and night, it swirled round him like a fog from which there was no escape. Normally when things were bothering him, he would sit at his computer or in his favourite chair and write about it until it was out of his system.  The daily annoyances were typed up and turned into witty newspaper columns while the deeper, more private things were written by hand into an old leather-bound notebook that lived in his study.  But this time, no matter how hard he tried, the words just wouldn’t come and that was making everything a hundred times worse.

“Oi, cloth ears, are you planning on hiding out here all day?” James popped his head round the corner of the hangar and grinned as Jeremy jolted in surprise and donked his head on the metal.

“Fuck me sideways, May!” huffed Jeremy as he rubbed his scalp.

“Only if you ask nicely,” winked James as he stepped fully round the wall of the hangar and strolled over to Jeremy. Sitting himself down, James lit a cigarette and the pair smoked in silence for a few minutes until he tentatively asked if Jeremy was alright.

“Yeah, course.”

“Ok, it’s just that the whole ‘not writing’ thing tells me you’re fibbing.”

James had his own slow and gentle way of pushing people that always resulted in getting to the truth and that was most definitely not somewhere Jeremy wanted to go and he certainly did not want to go there with James; so, using attack as the best form of defence, he lashed out, “Fuck off alright, just fuck off!”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” retreated James.  He knew that it was easier to catch bees with honey – or rather, loud-mouthed journalists with silence – so, instead of fighting, James eased off but left the door open, “You know you can always talk to me; it doesn’t matter what it is, it’ll  just be between us,” he said quietly.

Jeremy’s heart ached at James’ words and he longed to tell him the truth but despite their years of friendship, there was the ever-present niggle of doubt at the bottom of his soul. Turning slightly, he dared himself to look James in the eye and, hoping that he wouldn’t betray himself he murmured, “Honest?”

James squeezed his friend gently on the arm and whispered his reply, “Honest.”

 *

The same pattern continued for the next three days; Jeremy lurched between being perfectly ok one minute and angry at the universe the next while James remained at his side, armed with cigarettes, gentle mickey-taking and quiet reassurances that Jeremy could talk to him when he was ready.  But, as far as James could tell, nothing he did or said made any difference; Jeremy still wouldn’t open up to him and he still hadn’t written a word.

Late that afternoon, Jeremy was out on the track, completing the last film of the day in the new Audi and, with nothing better to do, Andy, James and Richard were out there watching him. Each time Jeremy swung the car past them they would laugh, flick him the V’s and generally take the piss. It was something they all did to each other on an almost daily basis and for the most part, they each managed to ignore the others until they’d finished their piece to camera and, despite the tsunami in his head, Jeremy was faring pretty well against their friendly onslaught with only the odd fluffed line and giggle that could easily be edited out later.

That was until, on his fourth circuit, Jeremy spotted James giving him the international symbol of the blow job.  In that split second, his brain off-lined and his feet forgot which pedal was the accelerator and which was the brake, and at a smidge over 120mph, he found himself spinning backwards across the grass without a clue how to stop. As he flew dangerously close to the boundary fence, Jeremy thought to himself, _As metaphors go…_

When Jeremy eventually came to a stop, James, Andy and Richard pelted as one across the track to see if he was ok.  James reached the car first and yanking the door open, he hollered, “You stupid git! You alright?”

Looking up at James’ worried face, something snapped inside Jeremy and he shoved James out of the way as he flew  from the car, “No, no I’m not fucking alright,” he yelled, “I can’t think, I can’t write and now I can’t fucking drive and you know what? It’s all your fucking fault, May!”

James opened his mouth to say something – _anything_ – but he never got the chance because, as the realisation of what he’d just said dawned on him, Jeremy yelled out a final, “Fuck!” and storming across the field, he climbed into his Mercedes and roared away.

Automatically, James went to follow him but he was stopped by Andy grabbing at his wrist, “Don’t. Let him go,” he said, levelly.

“But you heard him…it’s…I…”

“I know, James,” answered Andy, pulling James round to look him in the eye. “I know, alright. _I know._

“Since when?”

“Since always.”

 *

Jeremy paused with his hand on the door catch, took a deep breath and let James in. He’d known that he’d come, known that he was at the front door even before he’d rang the bell. Jeremy also knew, but wouldn’t acknowledge, that there would be no escape, no opportunity to lie, joke and bluff his way out. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to try.

“Drink?” he asked as they reached the kitchen.

James nodded towards the glass in Jeremy’s hand, knowing full well that it wasn’t straight Coke, “I’ll have what you’re having.”

“It’s got scotch in it,” Jeremy explained unnecessarily as he reached for the bottle on the counter top.

James shrugged but said nothing. Leaning against the wall of the small room, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited. Contrary to popular belief, Jeremy didn’t enjoy upsetting people and his earlier outburst had bothered him enough to want to apologise and James was certain that he could, aided by the mouth-loosening magic of whisky and his own steady brand of surety, finally get Jeremy to open up to him.  As Jeremy turned his back on him to mix his drink, James began a slow count-down in his head. _Ten…Nine…Eight…_

“I’m sorry about before,” mumbled Jeremy still with his back turned and hands braced on the counter.

_Four and a half._  “It’s alright,” answered James, his voice level. “Doesn’t matter, it’s only me.”

_Damn James for being so bloody reasonable!_  Finding apologies difficult at the best of times, Jeremy turned and passed James his drink without looking at him; in fact, his gaze bounced around the room until he finally found comfort in the cracked tile three inches to the left of James’ head. “Course it matters, I was bang out of order.”

James took a sip of his drink before answering, “I said it doesn’t matter; forget it.”

Jeremy huffed out an exasperated breath; his nerves were already shredded and this wasn’t helping. “Oh for fuck sake, May!” he snapped, “Why are you doing this? Why do you have to be so bloody agreeable all the time? Why can’t you, just for once, be pissed off at me? I annoy you a million times a day, why can’t you be annoyed now? Yell at me, go on; tell me what a prick I am! Anything would be better than this!”

James didn’t move an inch. “Why?” he asked steadily.

Jeremy knew that he’d reached the end of the road and like an idiot, he’d led himself there. A lie now would be worse than the truth so, launching himself forward, he grabbed at James’ shirt and faced down the firing squad, “So I can hate you instead of loving you, you bastard.”

For a beat, the world stopped.  Jeremy held his breath and the only move James made was the smile that spread across his face, “Finally.”

“What?” Jeremy blinked and shook his head in an effort to process what James had just said.

James smiled even wider, “And you call me Captain Slow!”

“I don’t understand, why aren’t you taking the piss or… or something?”

“Why would I? Besides, it’s very difficult to do much of anything when you’ve got me pinned against the wall.”

“Shit, sorry,” Jeremy let go and stepped back, flapping his hands at the creases on James’ shirt as the embarrassment kicked in.

James couldn’t help but laugh, “Stop it you daft git,” he said waving Jeremy’s hands away.

“Right.” Jeremy had never felt so discombobulated in his life, he had absolutely no clue what had just happened or what to do with himself so he just stood there, staring. Thankfully, James took charge and led Jeremy into the lounge.

For a few minutes, both men sat together in silence; James drinking his scotch and coke and Jeremy trying desperately to calm down. Eventually James lit two cigarettes and passed one over to Jeremy.

“Better?” he asked after Jeremy had smoked his way though it.

“Yeah,” Jeremy answered sheepishly. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said, it’s my problem, not yours; forget I said anything -”

“Bloody hell, Clarkson, you’re dense sometimes,” interrupted James. “I’ve been waiting since god-knows-when for you to catch up with me.”

Jeremy spun round in his seat to face James, “What, you mean… I didn’t think I had a chance in hell; why didn’t you say something?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know but it might have helped if I’d known that you felt the same way. I’ve been tying myself in knots this last fortnight.”

“Yeah, I had noticed,” ribbed James.

Chuckling, Jeremy threw himself back against the cushions, “Jesus, I’m idiot!”

“I’m saying nothing!” joked James as he moved in his seat to mirror Jeremy’s pose. Draping his arm along the back of the sofa, he stretched his fingers to gently touch with Jeremy’s own, “You alright?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, it’s just...what do we do now?”

James flicked his eyes up to lock with Jeremy’s, “What do you want to do?” he asked, knowing exactly what the answer would be. The grin that Jeremy flashed proved him right. Shaking his head, James huffed out a laugh, “Typical,” he teased. “Why don’t I kiss you and we can see what happens.”

Without breaking eye contact, Jeremy slowly leant forward and took James’ glass from him, placing it on the small table by his side. Swinging his long legs up onto the sofa, he motioned for James to move closer.

James shuffled along until he was sat side-on between Jeremy’s legs and, cradling his jaw he leant forward and began a slow, gentle kiss. As James eased his tongue into his mouth, Jeremy couldn’t help a small whimper from forming in his throat. He’d only dared to dream of this moment and now it was finally happening, it felt nothing liked he’d imagined – soft and warm with echoes of cigarettes, scotch and – Jeremy hoped – _love_.

After a minute, James pulled back, “Alright?” he asked.

“Course I am, I have done this before you know. I’m not about to freak out or anything.”

“Oh no? What have the last two weeks been about then?” asked James, only half joking.

“That was just writer’s block,” evaded Jeremy but when James raised his eyebrow, he finally came clean, “Ok, and maybe a _tiny_ bit of self-preservation. It all just got a bit much – with you, I mean…No-one likes getting hurt, James.”

“I thought you knew me better than that.”

And in that split second, as James’ words sunk in and the haze finally lifted, Jeremy realised that he did. Strung between them was years of friendship and feelings that Jeremy had been too busy ignoring to notice. Jeremy ran the back of his hand tenderly down James’ cheek, “I do; I’m sorry.”

James took hold of Jeremy’s hand and gripped it tightly in him own, “Enough recriminations alright, you’re not the only one that gets scared of falling, you know.”

Jeremy’s heart flipped and looking James straight in the eye he whispered, “I’ll catch you; I promise.”

“Sod off before I'm sick,” laughed James. Despite emotions becoming involved between them, there was still plenty of room for the usual brand of mickey-taking.

“Piss off,” replied Jeremy as he pulled James back down for another kiss that was the exact opposite of the last; full of tongues, teeth, spit and passion that had them both grasping at each other.

Eventually, lack of oxygen made James pull back and as he extricated Jeremy’s hands from his hair he asked, “As amazing as that was, Jez,  are we going to sit here snogging like a pair of teenagers or am I going to finally get my hands on what I’ve been wanting for years?”

Jeremy couldn’t help the colour from flashing across his face but he did as usual and covered his embarrassment with humour, “Hmm…getting forceful are we, May?”

“If you like,” teased James.

“Kinky bastard!” chuckled Jeremy as he began to undo James’ shirt buttons. Unhooking the last one, Jeremy allowed his fingers to ghost over the front of James’ jeans and he grinned, “Christ James, all that just from kissing.”

James flicked his eyes downwards and, spying an identical denim-clad bulge, he reached forward and squeezed gently, “Don’t look so smug, Clarkson, you’re in the same bloody boat. It feels good to finally let it out though, doesn’t it?”

“My body has always worked independently from my brain but…yeah,” shrugged Jeremy as if none of it had been a big deal.

James’ response was to repeat the manoeuvre, only with more pressure that made Jeremy moan low in his throat and thrust his hips upwards into James’ grasp.  Grabbing at his waistband, Jeremy yanked James forward until he was straddling Jeremy’s hips, “Fuck it; get up here!”

As Jeremy drew James’ belt from its buckle and unfastened his jeans, James noticed a slight tremor in his fingers, “Nerves? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Jeremy instantly flexed and fisted his fingers in denial, “Shut up, I just want to find out if mine’s bigger that’s all.”

“I’m plenty big enough to fill your gargantuan gob, Clarkson,” James fired back as he yanked hard on Jeremy’s fly, popping all five buttons at once and making him growl.

Pulling his jeans and boxers down to bunch under his bum, James wrapped his hand around Jeremy’s cock and fisted him slowly. Swiping his thumb quickly over the head he heard the same low moan as before and a shiver ran through him; he’d thought about this moment infinitely over the years but he never imagined that Jeremy’s arousal could sound so gorgeous; he knew then that he’d never be able to get enough of hearing it.

Needing Jeremy’s reactions as much as he needed the man himself, James intensified his movements; adding a slight twist of his wrist on the upstroke that again made Jeremy lurch into his touch and giving James the response he craved.

Jeremy tried desperately to get to James but, unable to co-ordinate his hands enough to lower his jeans, Jeremy shoved his fist inside James’ pants and, taking a firm hold, he began a faltering but eager move.

“Fuck!” James jolted at the touch, sending pre-come cascading over Jeremy’s fingers that made the older man grin widely. Seeing James throw back his head and bite his lip in an obvious effort of restraint gave Jeremy the last piece of confidence he needed to grip James tighter and wank him faster.

After a few minutes, with breath coming in ragged gasps and back arched, James grabbed Jeremy’s wrist, “Jesus…wait…wait a minute…fuck.”

“Problem?”

Gulping down air to steady himself, James glanced down at Jeremy who was looking up at him, face full of smug and his grin impossibly huge, “I always knew you were a wanker but you’re going to get a fistful if you don’t stop it,” he breathed.

Letting go, Jeremy couldn’t help but chuckle, “I might need to think of new nickname for you.”

“Shut up, Clarkson; you’re forgetting, while you were worrying yourself stupid over the ridiculous notion that I wouldn’t want to screw you, I was thinking of doing nothing but. Now, can we _please_ go a bit slower?”

“I don’t do slow; you know that.”

As the irony of Jeremy’s statement registered, both men dissolved into giggles.  “Alright, Captain Speedy,” said Jeremy when he’d finally stopped laughing, “Seeing as you’re the expert, how do you want to play it?”

James cocked his head to one side in thought, “I’ve got plenty of ideas; are you saying you haven’t?”

Jeremy couldn’t stop the blush from exploding across his face but he was past caring, “Course I have; insomnia does have its perks, you know.”

Now it was James’ turn to grin, “Oh, so you’ve been using those long, lonely nights to wank over me have you?”

“Maybe a bit, once or twice,” Jeremy half admitted. “Now will you please, for the love of all that is holy, fuck me before I go insane.”

Shucking his jeans and pants down to his thighs, James shifted until he was on all fours above Jeremy, “For a journalist, your way with words is decidedly lacking.”

“Thankfully, nobody’s noticed yet,” Jeremy quipped.  Gripping James’ hips, he pulled James downwards until they were lying hip to hip, “Now shut up and teach me how to do slow.”

Balancing on one arm, James slid his hand between them and taking a firm hold of both Jeremy and himself, he began the same slow movement as before that soon had Jeremy gasping and thrusting his hips in the same, unhurried rhythm.

“Oh fuck, this is good,” breathed Jeremy.

The slickness of his hand told James that he was leading Jeremy  to the edge but he held himself back, needing to hear that delicious sound one more time before he joined him, “You want more?” he asked.

“Uhuh,” was all Jeremy could manage.

James slid his hand upwards and, cupping the head of both their cocks, he flicked his wrist rapidly.  The unexpected change of pace sent a massive jolt of adrenaline and arousal though Jeremy and, sucking in a breath, he threw back his head and growled deep in his throat.

_Yes!_  That was the final push that James needed to finally let himself go, “Wrap your legs around me,” he demanded.

It took Jeremy a second to catch up with James’ words but the look of pure lust that James gave him was enough for him to comply. All pretence of leisure now gone, James yanked his hand away and ground down onto Jeremy.  “Now I make you come,” he growled.

“Fuck!” Jeremy bucked upwards and grabbed James’ arse to force him down harder.  Within seconds they had found their rhythm and were matching each other perfectly. The friction was almost unbearable but at the same time exquisite and Jeremy was shaking with it, “Jesus, James, I’m so fucking close, I’m…”

And there was that look again, that indescribable look from James that, until that split second, Jeremy didn’t even know he needed but never dared to hope for. Grabbing James’ head, he forced him down into a fierce kiss and, growling into James’ mouth, he threw himself over the edge and came harder than he ever thought possible.

James had about three seconds on Jeremy before the rumble hit the back of his throat and his vision whited-out in intense orgasm.

When he came to, James was laid flat with his head on Jeremy’s chest. Shifting slightly, he propped himself up on one arm to look Jeremy in the eye, “Alright?” he asked, tenderness overflowing their usual banter.

“Course I am; what made you think I wouldn’t be?”

“Well, you know…before…”

Reaching up, Jeremy swiped a strand of hair from James’ face and tucked it behind his ear, “I know I went a bit wobbly before -” James raised an eyebrow that made Jeremy backtrack; “Alright, alright I went fucking close to mental but…you trust me don’t you?”

“Completely,” murmured James.

“Well trust me when I say that the only doubt I ever had was entirely of my own making and you’ve banished it completely.  I give you my word.”

James ran his finger down Jeremy’s cheek, “It’s all I want, Jez.”

“It’s all I have.”

 *

The next morning, James parked up in his usual spot and ambled slowly over to Richard who was sat on the portakabin steps, “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

“It’s Jeremy,” answered Richard.

James’ heart sank, “Oh god, what’s he done?”

Taking a mouthful of coffee, Richard explained, “It’s only just gone eight right, but he’s driven me mad already. I’ve no idea what’s happened but he came bounding in, full of the joys of spring and started typing nineteen to the dozen. He’s turned out enough copy to keep the world’s press happy for months.”

A small smile formed at the edges of James’ mouth, “Oh, has he now…”

 The End


End file.
